Life In Hell
O’hare is hell.I’m not one of those people who envisions hell as an ironic place where everything is perfect except for one maddening detail. That’s always seemed a bit foolish to me.
Sure, if you have only one brief moment with which to torture someone, irony is a great unseen dagger. But in hell, like in O’hare, they have you for an eternity. Why use a velvet glove when you can ram an unlimited number of pokers into their eyeballs and twist?
Hell succeeds at being hell because it reminds you at every turn, in every corner, in every way, that you are in hell and that you cannot escape.
As a species, we rationalize way too much. If hell was a double-edged sword, we’d just rationalize it away and not even realize it was hell. What? Thousands of hot dogs and no buns, condiments, or beverages? Well, at least it's better than brunch at aunt Lucy's No, that’s not the devils way. He’s too smart for that. Life is a double-edged sword, not hell. Let me tell you a little about hell.
Hell is a 11 hour flight with bad food and a poor selection of movies including Alex and Emma, The Itallian job, and two depressing Japanese language movies. Then, hell adds a few layers of security, customs, immigration, baggage check, a second ticket counter, …and of course, a cancelled flight.
Now, I only need to get from O’hare to Milwaukee. It’s about a 75 minute drive and a half hour flight. They routinely cancel the jaunt from O’hare to Milwaukee because (I suspect) the plane isn’t filled. So, they cram the unlucky passengers onto other flights, and tell the rest of us to kiss their big yellow butts, or worse yet, …to take the bus.
The bus?? I said incredulously.
“Yes. The United limo bus.”
“I’d rather take a car, can’t you give me a voucher for a rental.”
“Sorry, we don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we use the limo bus. Our job is getting you from point A to point B.”
“I must have missed that in the ads that specifically identify you as an AIRLINE, not a bus company.”
Silence
“Well, when does this bus leave?”
“In an hour.”
“An how long does it take to get there?”
“3 hours?”
“You’re kidding.”
“That’s what it says. I think it takes 3 hours.”
“It doesn’t take 3 hours to drive to Milwaukee, does it make other stops?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you find out? Because I’m not sitting on a bus for another 3 hours.”
It does take 3 hours. I makes all sorts of stops along the way. Screw that. I tell her I am going to rent a car and write to the company to reimburse me. I apoligize for being short with her and I asked for the proper number or address to make my claim.
So, I hussle out of the terminal and see a passing Hertz bus. I flag it down and within minutes I am at the Hertz office, straining to drag my luggage a few more feet to the counter.
They are out of cars. Can’t help me.
Back on the shuttle bus. Back to the airport. A Budget bus is going by. I flag it down, hop on.
“Hi. I don’t have a reservation, do you have cars available?”
“Yeah, come on up.”
Great. About 10 minutes later I’m dragging my luggage to the Budget counter.
They are out of cars.
“But I specifically asked the driver if you had cars available.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, we are booked.”
Back on the bus, a different one.
“What airline.”
“None”
“Huh?”
“I’ve got no reservation and you’ve got no cars.”
“Oh, did someone tell you we had cars?"
“Yes, the driver of the other bus. I asked him.”
At this point, this elderly gentleman became very curious about who made this mistake and inconvenienced me. He seemed really into his job, really into being helpful, which did me no good because in hell, no one can help you.
He explained that I should go back to the terminal, call their 1-800 number and make a reservation if I can. I’ll have a better chance and get a lower rate etc etc …he went out of his way to lay out all my options.
I just know the other drivers hate him. When they have their driver meetings, you know, ...don’t run over people, don’t swear, don’t take the shuttle for a joy ride, etc etc, …everyone just wants to get out of there early so they can go home and forget that they drive the stupid shuttle bus at the airport for a living., but this guy, …I can tell he is the kind of guy who extends the meeting an extra excruciating 45 minutes by asking dumb questions and discussing more efficient ways to load bags. He makes suggestions, tries to solicit feedback, takes notes, and has something to say about each issue. Everyone in the room is throwing daggers at his back thinking “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID WHITE-HAIRED PIECE OF SHIT!!!! GOD-FUCKING DAMMIT!!!”
Anyway, the old-timer starts to ask me about the person who gave me the wrong info. The man in question was named Royce, but I lied and said I didn’t remember his name because I don’t want to get him in trouble. So, I play dumb.
“Hmmmm, was he black or white?”
I hate this question. I feel like I shouldn’t answer because he would never ask that if a black guy was nearby, but since we are both not black, we can discuss this fact openly, I guess. It always makes me a little uncomfortable.
“Black”
“Ok, ….was he a tall guy with glasses?”
“Nope.”
“Hmmm, …heavy-set guy with light hair and …”
“No.”
In fact, Royce was good-looking, funny, a real charmer, about medium height, medium build with a permanent smile. I liked him. He’s the kind of guy I enjoyed working with when I did shit jobs in college, …he was a little older than me, funny as hell, and constantly on the hunt for tail. He’d be great to have a beer with after a long night of selling shoes.
“Was he effeminate?”
The truth is yes. But I would never say that. I can see how this old guy would think that. Compared to Charles Bronson (GRHS), yes, effeminate. But compared to an average single urban man in the 21st century, …not really. What we he going to ask next, Chinaman? Broad? Pinko-union-bastard?
“Not really.”
“Ha ha ha, …well I’ll never figure out who it was then!”
As was my plan.
Well, it’s an hour and a half later. All cars in all rental companies are booked. All of them.
Fortunately I have parents who are willing to drive the 90 minutes (they drive slower) to get me. So, if I’d just taken the ass-wipe bus in the first place I’d have gotten home earlier.
I remember a bible story about a horrible lady who ended up in hell. She wanted to go to heaven, so an angel looked down and had pity on her. He said that if she had done just one good thing in her life then he could help her. Well, once she gave a boy an onion who needed one and had no money. This is the only good thing she ever did. So, the angel spun the onion into a thin rope and lowered it to her. She grabbed ahold and started to be pulled up. When other people saw this, they wanted to get into heaven too, so they grabbed onto her legs so they could also be pulled up with her. Afraid that the rope would break, she started kicking at the people. The angel warned her not to struggle or she will break the rope, but she didn't listen. The rope broke and she fell back into hell.
Moral of the story, ...stay out of O'hare!
<< Home